Where I'm From...

I am from homemade apple pies, from Mott's Applesauce with cinnamon and Pillsbury biscuits.

I am from the creepy old house, way back in the woods, out in the middle of nowhere, where the cold would seep through the walls and freeze you to death.

I am from the garden of Dorothy, the passion my mawmaw had for gardening and her flowers.

I am from a Silver Dollar in the cabbage on New Year's for good fortune and double jointed elbows, from Richard and Barbara and mainly the Barton side of the family.

I am from the tender-hearted and the hard-headed.

From birth control and penicillin and a weekend home from the job that makes you travel.

I am from "You don't have to go to church to have God in your heart, all you have to do is accept Him and His ways."

I'm from Winston-Salem and a family full of West "By-God" Virginians, pinto beans and fried potatoes.

From the two weeks Sam and Dorothy knew each other before they were married and had a son and beautiful daughter, Barbara, the crazy sister that gave up many good nights of rest to take care of me while my moma was working, and the up-to-date technology my brother always supplied me with while I was growing up.

I am from the stacks of pictures my moma has in her closet for her scrapbooks she is making for her three children and all of the items that were lost when my moma and I moved to Walnut Cove.